Overlap
by brightblue
Summary: Missing scenes from Berlin. What happened between the pre-nap in the hotel and the club... Tony/Ziva UST.


**Disclaimer:** Ha!

**AN: **Missing scenes for Berlin. This was a drabble request from **agentscully514** on Tumblr, which of course morphed into five pages of emotions. Really, it's just a little insight into what may have happened in between the hotel and the club in Berlin. Not sure it really adds all that much but, well, here you go anyway. Enjoy?

* * *

"We'll get Bodnar tonight," Tony pledged.

"I know," Ziva agreed. And even if the promise was empty at best, seeing the warmth in her partner's eyes as he lay next to her in their hotel bed was all she needed to ease the anxiety that prickled her skin. She often wondered how Tony could do that, how a few words and a look could soothe the ragged edges of her soul and what the difference was between this time and those other times when her polite response was to send him a withering glare. But _this time_, with her whole body throbbing with a pain that would not abate, all Tony DiNozzo had to do was look at her through sleepy eyes and she felt her problems fall away. It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense.

She watched him for a moment more, as he pursed his lips into a half-grin and let his eyelids flutter closed. She knew it was a move she was meant to mimic but she wasn't quite done watching him yet. Maybe another long look and she would get her fill. She would finally understand. Her eyes traveled the topography of his face, cataloging each plane and wrinkle for further study. He was someone she never, ever wanted to forget and that was all she could admit to herself right now.

Even if he was here in flesh and blood, just a touch away, that didn't mean that _someday_... Someday he wouldn't be. It was a simple truth. People who got close to her died. And losing Tony? Not being able to watch the rise and fall of his chest, not feeling the warmth of him… Just the thought of it made a tremor run through her body. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. No. She couldn't think that. Because it shouldn't matter. _He_ shouldn't matter. He _couldn't_.

It wasn't fair. He was just a man. He wasn't supposed to have this power over her. She wasn't supposed to care this much what happened to another person when she could hardly give thought to her own safety. It was worrying about his fate on this mission that gave her pause. She was prepared to die. She was not prepared to lose him.

"I don't think you're sleeping." His tone was light and teasing, pulling her thoughts from the dark place they had settled.

Ziva kept her eyes closed. Struggled against his buoyancy. "Nor are you, apparently."

"Let's just stop thinking. Just for a little bit." The last word trailed off in a sigh and Ziva had to wonder if maybe he wasn't already halfway to dreamland. Her eyes opened to check in on him, but he remained in the same position as before, looking every bit asleep. Before she could consider the meaning behind his words, he made it quite clear. His arm flopped off his chest, opening to her. He said nothing, just beckoned her closer with his fingers. Ziva gave him a look.

"C'mere," he murmured. "You have to nap. This will be more comfortable."

"Oh, it will?" Her eyebrow lifted, punctuating her tone.

Tony waggled his fingers again. "I've been told I'm a master snuggler. A miracle-worker."

"Uh huh," she responded, doubtful. But he had done it again. A warmth that started somewhere in her chest spread down to her toes. A smile stole its way onto her lips.

Tony's voice turned gruffer. "Don't make me open my eyes, David."

She snorted, rolled her eyes, and debated smacking the smirk off of his face. Making sure her huff of protest was heard, she gave in and scooted into Tony's arms. It took her a few seconds to settle herself and find a good fit. Tony wisely kept his mouth shut during the process. Settling her head on his chest, she let Tony wrap his hand around her hip and adjust the length of her body along his. Enveloped in his arms, in his scent, his heart beating its steady rhythm in her ear, she felt sleep call for the first time in weeks.

"See. Better."

Ziva just sighed her argument into his shirt. She hated when he was right. Tension eased out of her muscles with every strong breath he took. His cologne had mostly worn off and his shirt smelled like fabric softener, beneath that a hint of musk that was all Tony. It was something she often teased him about but secretly craved. It was a scent that recalled long days in the field with the sun teasing her neck, draping herself over Tony as he pecked away at his keyboard, and the smile that lit his face when they broke the case; it was familiar. It was home. Tears pricked her eyes. She clutched at the cotton that covered his skin.

"Please do not take him from me," she prayed. Her lips moved but her words were silent. _Take me, I have nothing left, but please do not let him die for me. He deserves something better than I can ever offer._ Still, she felt Tony's hand rest on her arm, enfolding her in his embrace completely.

Strange that now she felt content for the first time in weeks.

* * *

Tony woke some time later to find his partner snoring against his chest. Looking down at her, he couldn't keep himself from grinning at the sight. She curled into him, her ear pressed right over his heart, hands clutching at his shirt, and her legs tangled with his. He dared to stroke her hair and was pleasantly surprised when she nuzzled him in response.

He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand and turned off the alarm so it wouldn't wake Ziva. They had a few minutes left before it was time to get ready anyway. He supposed there were worse ways to pass the time than watching the woman he loved sleep.

She looked peaceful, he decided. Young. And beautiful. Though that went without saying. His fingers squeezed at her waist and he felt her body tense against his in response. Yeah. A shower would definitely be in order. There was no way he could be expected to keep his mind on a mission if he still smelled her on his skin. He wondered how pissed she would be if he just let her sleep. Really pissed, probably.

"Ziva," he spoke, voice soft. She gave a little grunt in response. "I'm going to shower. Sleep a little longer. I'll wake you when I'm done."

He untangled himself from her. The light touches he bestowed upon her hair, her arm, and her thigh as he left the bed kept her settled and mostly asleep. She reached for a pillow to take his place. A chill prickled his skin once he was free of her; his body missed her warmth. It was with great reluctance that he grabbed his toiletries bag and headed for the bathroom.

Flipping the shower on as hot as it would go, he returned to the bedroom to grab his suit to steam while he showered. He found Ziva sitting up in bed, blinking herself awake. She gave him a groggy look and said nothing when he gestured to the bathroom. He was vaguely amused by her disorientation. He hadn't been wrong to hype his sedative powers. Leaving the door to the bathroom slightly ajar, Tony shed his clothes and hopped under the spray of warm water.

A few minutes later, he heard Ziva move about the room. He peaked out through the shower curtain in time to see her plug in her curling iron and disappear from sight. He smiled and started whistling. For a moment he would pretend they were just another couple getting ready for a night on the town. How much easier it would be if that were the case. If this were just another night out, just another date, he would be debating how much money he was willing to drop on a single bottle of wine. His father always said that was the true barometer of a quality date—just how much money a man was willing to drop without anticipating anything in return. With Ziva, of course, no price was too steep to see her happy.

Which brought him back to their current predicament. Because tonight wasn't about an expensive bottle of champagne or a four-star restaurant. Tonight he was willing to kill a man in cold blood because that might give Ziva a chance at happiness. Certainly, that ranked off the charts on Senior's scale and the most he expected from Ziva in return was a reprieve from the haunted look on her face. But it was best not to think too closely about the things he was willing to do for one Ziva David.

They weren't just any couple, were they? Hell, they weren't a couple, period.

Giving his face a final rinse, Tony turned off the water and groped around outside of the shower for a towel. He found one waiting on the hook just outside the curtain. Ziva had clearly been there. He grinned. Not a couple. Right.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped out of the steamy bathroom and into the bedroom. He found Ziva there, sitting at a small table, wrapped up in a fluffy white bathrobe and cleaning her gun.

"You know, some women get ready for a night out by touching up their hair and makeup," he teased when she failed to acknowledge his presence. Tony was rewarded with a smirk, though Ziva didn't look up from her task.

"Hmm, well, I gain confidence knowing my weapon is in working order," she bantered back, giving her Sig a final onceover before loading a clip and securing the gun in her handbag. Tony found the image rather arousing. Sensing this, because _of course_ she did, Ziva finally turned and gave him a proper look. He savored the appreciation in her gaze.

As quickly as heat flared between them, it fell flat. Ziva looked away and cleared her throat. "Do you mind…?" She tilted her head in the direction of the bathroom.

"All yours," he answered, trying to gauge the emotions simmering below her mask of composure. But Ziva wasn't an open book, not now anyway, and she kept her face closed as she grabbed a few belongings and shut herself in the bathroom.

With a sigh, Tony turned to the closet but remembered he'd left his suit hanging outside the shower. As if on cue, the door to the bathroom opened and there stood Ziva holding his clothes aloft, expectant look on her face.

"Honey, you read my mind," he drawled, hoping to lure another smile from his partner. He called the slight quirk of her lips before she turned and shut the door in his face a win. Shaking his head, he began to dress.

So engrossed in fixing his hair in the dresser mirror, he barely registered the bathroom door opening again. Catching sight of his partner in the mirror's reflection, he froze with his hands near his head.

"Wow," he gaped as he turned to see her properly. Ziva demurred at his reaction, lifting her chin up and shaking her head a bit.

"It is a mission, Tony," she reminded him in a clipped tone. But something sparked in her eyes so he knew his appreciation wasn't completely unwelcome.

"I know," he rolled his eyes, snapping them back in her direction as she slid her feet into a pair of heels. Now that was sexy. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate how beautiful you look."

His compliment made her pause in her struggle to put on her earrings. She fumbled with one and it fell to the floor. Tony rushed to pick it up. Ziva stood still, watching him as he knelt to the floor and rescued the fallen bauble. He took his time standing again. He let his eyes feast on her legs, so much skin on view under that short hemline, and the way the silk of her dress drifted over her curves. She captured his gaze and held it as he stood, holding the fallen item out for her to take.

"Thank you," she murmured, grabbing the earring. Her eyes fell to the floor before he could fully comprehend them.

"Ziva…"

She finished with her jewelry and ran a hand down her completed outfit. She was just fidgeting now. He watched her. He waited.

"Tony…" she began. She lifted her hands and then dropped them again. He puzzled over her expression. Her face was composed as ever, but her eyes brimmed with words unspoken. He held his breath. She clenched her fingers into fists. "Tony, you do not have to do this with me."

Frowning, he tried to figure out her angle. He didn't have to do this? Did she not want him here? Like hell he was letting her push him away again or…

Or _maybe_.

"Of course, I do. I am your partner, Ziva," he kept his voice firm yet calm. "I have your back."

She didn't seem to like that answer. Her gaze skirted away from him. She toyed with the purse in her hand. He had made her uncomfortable, that much was clear. But he saw past the fear swirling in her eyes to the heart of the issue, to the reason why she had kept him in the dark these past few weeks. She was trying to protect him. He saw it now in the way her brow furrowed just slightly; he remembered how she clutched him in her sleep.

"This is not your fight," she protested.

"I beg to differ." He merely raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to continue the argument. But Ziva was a trained soldier and knew better than to pick a fight she couldn't win, so after holding his gaze for the better part of a minute, she relented. "Now. Are we ready?"

And with that, Ziva seemed to gain control of her emotions again. Gone was the fear and indecision, in their place came determination. Tony wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not. Regardless, it was show time. There would be time to talk later.

He couldn't even think that they might soon run out of laters.

Sending up a silent prayer that they'd get at least one more, he followed his partner out the door.


End file.
